


snow

by orphan_account



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: in which Thomas and the new footman are stuck in the house together during a snowstorm





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi thank you if you´re reading this story

(JIMMY) I clutched my small suitcase closer to my heaving chest, as I trudged through the thin layer of snow. I could feel my ribs poke my extra pair of shoes as I looked down at the white flakes settling on the fraying leather and the flimsy straps. I needed this job. I hadn't had a job in almost a year and my measly savings were now coming to an end scarily fast.

I stuck my free hand into the pocket of my far-too-thin coat and groped around in all the wrappers and small coins, until I found what I was looking for. I pulled out the slightly crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it.

Downton Abbey - the last name on the list of possible future work places. There were about a dozen or so crossed out names above it; this was my last hope, or I'd have to leave England and go abroad - and though not even that actually guaranteed a job, it would be easier to forget about my reference that way.

I slid the note back into my pocket and pulled out a small hand-mirror instead. I gave my worn-out reflection a tired smile. I had dark sagging bags under my eyes from sleeping at cheap pubs and my skin had a strong grey-ish tone to it.

I tried to arrange my awkwardly sticking-out hair into a single curl above my forehead, but to no avail. Eventually I gave up and spat into my hands in an attempt to at least make it look purposefully flattened out.

Still unsatisfied with my messy appearance I snorted at my disgruntled reflection, before stuffing the mirror in with the list. Then I straightened my posture, held my chin up high, and - trying to look as casual and collected as possible - started walking up the seemingly endless drive of what was my last hope.

\----------

I had known Downtown Abbey was big from the picture under the advertisement in the paper, but now, as I saw it towering up right in front of me, I thought 'big' was rather an understatement.

From what I could see, it was bigger than any house I had ever worked at before, and that was only the main house. I felt slightly intimidated by the what-felt-like-a-hundred windows all along the facade in neat rows.

I thought of all the rich aristocrats that could be looking at me through the darkened glass right that moment, shuddered and quickly made my way round the side of the house in search of the servants entrance.

The small black door wasn't too hard to find, as it was set slightly ajar to let in some of the fresh winter's air. I stumbled the last few feet through the ankle-high snow and pushed open the door.

I was instantly hit with the most amazing smell of apple-pie and a sudden rush of warmth ran through my veins. It was a huge relief after the constant stale-beer and mouldy-food-smell I had lived with for the past few months.

'And who are you, young man?'

My head spun towards the strict-sounding voice.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Im Jimmy- uh, James. James Kent.' I have the stern woman a small bow in the hope to redeem my mistake. I had to make the best impression possible. Jobs were hard to get nowadays anyway, what with the war ending and soldiers back, but if anyone found out about my history...

If anyone found out what had happened that last evening at Bedwell Manor - even worse, what had been going on for weeks and weeks before that-

'Mr Kent?'

I snapped back to the homely kitchen and laughed nervously. This is not going to plan, I thought, as I noticed that not only the what-I-supposed-housekeeper, but all the kitchen maids and even the cook were now staring at me almost pityingly.

'I'm supposing you're here for the job?'

'Y-Yes, m'am,' I stuttered, looking around at the blank faces and noticing one pretty girl in particular, looking at me with a slightly flirtatious smile. I quickly stared down at my shabby boots to avoid her attention.

'Well, you'd better come with me then. Mr Carson'll deal with you." And with that the housekeeper turned on her heel and started taking large strides towards the door to the Servant's Hall. I quickly grabbed my suitcase from where I had put it down just a minute ago, and hurried after her.

I just caught the door as it closed and managed to wedge in my foot, before I fully opened it.

'So who's this them?' asked a brunette maid, who was sitting down at the long wooden table, that took up most of the room. Before anyone could say anything else, she was already being shooed off by the woman who had escorted me in and scolded for resting during work.

She left with an angry mumble of something that sounded a whole lot like "old hag". I hated to think what would happen to her as soon as the housekeeper caught her alone later.

'He's here for the job interview. We're just on our way to see Mr Carson about it, so if the rest of you´ll excuse us and get back to your work, I'd be very thankful.'

The gathered servants quickly scattered off to their duties and I followed the woman out of the Servant's Hall and down a set of corridors, before we stopped in front of what I guessed was "Mr Carson's" office. The door was slightly ajar and I could see a thin sliver of a mans broad back hunched over a desk.

'Here you go,' she said, almost pushing me inside. I heard a "click" as the door fell back in place behind me.

__________

I had gotten the job. I couldn't believe it. I had hoped of course, but there had always been the underlying reality. The reality that you usually didn´t get away with what I had done; that men like me belonged locked up-

No, I was not thinking about that now. It was fine now. I had a job, and that was that. I wouldn't have to live on the streets. I wouldn't have to spend my life alone. I wouldn't have to go to prison. I sighed. Everything was going to be alright.

Not being able to contain my relief, I smiled widely at the tall man who was showing me my new room. He had charcoal-black hair, perfectly slicken back, hard, but not necessarily unkind eyes and from what I could see through his uniform, he was well built. "Mr Barrow", as he had been introduced by Mrs Hughes, probably thought I was completely nutty, walking around looking like a Cheshire Cat, but I didn't care.

'Here are you liveries,' he stated flatly, opening up a tall cupboard against the wall to my right. Right in the middle of the room stood a bed, and a wash-basin and a chest of drawers took up the space opposite the cupboard.

'Thank you,' I said, my smile broadening even more - if that was even possible. It felt good to have a home again; good to have somewhere to belong.

'I'm Jimmy, by the way,' I introduced myself, trying to spark up a friendly conversation.

'Better not say that in front of Mr Carson; he doesn't approve of nicknames,' he answered without turning around to face me.

'Oh, ok.' I couldn't help feel slightly disappointed by his lack of cooperation.

After explaining to me exactly what to do exactly when, until I was feeling quite intimidated, and warning me about what would happen if I didn't do exactly that exactly then, Mr Barrow left and I was left alone with my thoughts and a half-empty suitcase to empty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: ok so this chapter is kinda shorter than the one before though I always try to get them about 1200 words and also please don't hate me for not knowing the exact layout and stuff at Downton

(THOMAS) I groaned inwardly, as I entered the already full Servant's Hall and sat down at my usual seat. I gave the nervous-looking new footman sitting diagonally opposite me a reassuring smile. Having been given some time to clean up and dress he already looked much healthier and definitely more alive as he had when he arrived that morning.

I hated dinner. It was by far the worst meal of the day. At breakfast everyone was still so dazed from constant lack of sleep, no one really talked anyway and we all just sat in comfortably silence. At lunch most of the other servants had to rush off back to their duties as quick as possible, so they hurriedly shovelled in their meal and then left again.

But dinner was different. Dinner was after all the hard work had been done for the day and the relief was clearly written on everyone's face. There was laughter and happy chatter all around the table. Everyone was either discussing new movies and theatre-shows or else just catching up on what other people had been busy doing the whole day.

Everyone that was, except me. Dinner always made me feel the loneliest. Of course, I was always lonely, didn't have anyone to talk to, and it had been that way since I could remember, but I could usually forget about that during the day at Downton.

Downton made me feel at home, at peace. It didn't fill the place in my heart that a friend would, obviously, but at least I somewhat had a space here, I belonged, even if the other servants often made it hard for me to believe so.

They didn't really talk to me and if I was honest, I couldn't really blame them; I wouldn't want to talk to me either. I wasn't a pleasant person to be around and I had already accepted it to be that way at a young age; people and Thomas Barrow just didn't mix and that was that.

Just then Mr Carson entered the room and everyone instantly scrambled to stand up. He walked up to his seat and sat down, indicating the rest of us to follow suit.

When we had all settled down again and plates and platters were starting to be passed around, Carson clapped his hands in order to get everyone's attention. We all turned towards him.

'There has been a change of plans,' he started. 'His lordship will be leaving earlier than formerly expected. Mr Barrow' - a dozen or so heads turned my way - 'you are to to wake and dress Lord Grantham as usual tomorrow. The car should be ready at eight.' With a short nod in the chauffeur's direction he finished his small speech and the chatter and clinging of cutlery on plates resumed.

The family was spending Christmas and the days leading up to it abroad with Lady Grantham's mother. Her lordship and the girls had left a week earlier, his lordship however, still wanting to get some business matters off his chest before the festivities began, had stayed back a couple of days.

From what I could gather, he would now be taking the first boat at ten o'clock the next morning. That meant we all had a day off then, which, looking around, everyone was obviously immensely excited about.

There were already smaller groups making plans all around me. It seemed like it was going to be another lonely Thomas-only-day. Not that I really cared; I hadn't really expected anything else anyway. It was the same every time we had a day off and I had long gotten used to it after ten years of service at Downton.

My thoughts still focussed on what I could fill an entire day of loneliness with, I tucked into my food and tried to at least enjoy the company I did have.

\----------

The winter's air was fresh, washing soothingly around my aching head, as I stumbled out of the back door. The throbbing pain had started shortly after dinner, while the plates were being cleaned away, and now, an hour later, it had still hardly subsided.

I groaned slightly, as I leaned against the brick wall behind me and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. I stuck one into my mouth, lit it and started taking shaky puffs. I watched the smoke rise in small clouds in front of me for a bit, before I felt the pain slowly start to ease away.

I sighed a sigh of relief; I had been afraid I would be taken sick on my free day. That would just make it even more boring. I eased myself down the wall until I had reached a sitting position. I tilted my head back, until the star-lit sky filled out my entire vision.

Snow was still falling heavily and it didn't seem like it was in the mood for stopping any time soon. If I wasn't completely mistaken, it looked like it was actually getting worse.

I smiled to myself silently; it was moments like these that I treasured most of all: when I was alone, comfortably doing nothing and no one around to judge me for anything. The peace was short lived though, as right at that moment a silhouette appeared in the doorframe, throwing a shadow on the gravel to my left.

'I thought I saw you go out here. 'You alright?'

I hurriedly scrambled to my feet as I recognized the voice to be the new footman's. He was standing in the doorway with his hands clasped together in an anxious fashion. I couldn't help but feel slightly touched by the fact that someone I'd only met that day was the first person in a long time to actually care about how I was feeling.

'Fine,' I immediately responded, unintentionally whispering from the biting cold, that - with my head-ache almost gone - was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. I quickly added a shaky nod for reassurance.

'I was just wondering, 'cos everyone else's gone to bed and I'm supposed to lock up. 'Saw you leave earlier and thought I'd check up. But you seem alright, so-'

'Yes, I'm fine,' I interrupted his nervous rambling.

He immediately smiled down at his hands sheepishly, before turning around and walking back into the Servant's Hall. I quickly stamped out my already burnt-down cigarette and, with a last glance at the white flakes falling from the sky, followed him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I don't know if anyone is even still reading this but hi if you are and thank you


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: ok so I just realized I uploaded the wrong chapter yesterday sorry if anyone was confused but this is the one I actually wanted to upload

(JIMMY) I could feel the snow go over the top of my battered shoes the moment I stepped outside the back door the next morning. My moth-eaten socks weren´t doing much in the way of keeping the wet from seeping through to my toes either, I realized not a second later. I stuffed my hands into my frayed pockets, hoping to at least preserve a little heat in my fingers.

I jumped as I heard a voice call my name somewhere to my left and through the swirling masses of snow could just make out all the younger maids only a few feet away huddled together to protect each other from the biting cold. The pretty kitchen maid , Ivy, who had invited me to join them the evening before, detached herself form the group and approached me, smiling. It seemed all the other servants had left already - save for the valet who had stayed back to "keep an eye on things", as he had told me.

'We thought you´d found someone better to go with. We were just about to leave without you.' I returned her smile in what I hoped was a convincing way, before I felt her link her arm through mine and pull me back towards her friends, who were jumping around on their feet, trying to get warm.

'At last. You took your time.'

'Sorry,' I mumbled under my breath at a sour-looking house maid, before we all started walking towards the village.

__________

I instantly regretted accepting their offer the moment we reached the village; I was dragged from shop to shop until I thought I may have seen enough shops for an entire lifetime. They never bought anything either, always just stared in awe at all the modern dresses and the delicious tarts and then moved on again.

After a while I even suggested we visit a store they might actually be able to afford something in, but my proposition was blatantly ignored as I was forcefully stopped in front of what felt like the hundredth shop window. While they gushed over a rather unappealing bag I looked longingly at a book shop over on the other side of the road. Maybe if I told them I just wanted to nip over...

I was just contemplating, if they would even notice my absence - they were so engrossed in a discussion about the newest fashions - when Ivy put her arm through mine again and the trek continued. As the morning went on I became more and more uncomfortable with every passing second, while Ivy seemed to be getting even more comfortable with me, holding onto me in the way a girlfriend might treat her boyfriend - at times even taking my hand in hers or lying her head on my shoulder.

It only became worse when - after multiple hours of "looking" - we reached the market square and I noticed I had been so busy thinking about how I could get away, I hadn´t realized she had sent the other girls on ahead and we were now alone.

I felt like I had finally reached the point, where I just couldn´t bare any more of it. I was frozen down to the bone and my ears and nose were as raw and red as ever. Though the storm had eased off a bit since the morning, the village seemed completely deserted save for us and I started wondering if maybe all the other servants had been sensible enough to seek shelter in a tea shop somewhere.

Oh, what I would have given at that moment for a nice and comfy armchair in front of a crackling fire. I thought about the valet, that had stayed back at the house and how I envied him now; how much more fun this day could have been, if I´d just had the heart to say "no"...

'Let´s have some pastries. Come on, I´m hungry.' Ivy tore my thoughts back to freezing reality. Seeing my puzzled expression she sighed dramatically and pointed towards a small stall I hadn´t noticed until then, on the other side of the square.

Ivy made me buy us both pastries from the haggard old man selling them and then started guiding me towards a park "only a few minutes walk away". She ignored any questions about where the others had gotten to, but instead held onto my arm even tighter than she had been the whole morning – if that were even possible.

We reached the park and she found a free bench for us – not that it was hard, as we were the only people in sight anyway. I sat down and started opening the steaming bag in my lap, wondering why we had to sit outside and couldn´t have found a nice cozy pub somewhere. She was sitting far too close for my liking and while we ate in silence, I tried to resist moving further down the bench. I didn´t meet her eye once throughout the whole meal, even though I could constantly feel her gaze on the side of my face.

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to get away. Get back to Downton and never find myself alone in her company in this way again.

__________

God, at last. Despite my blue lips and trembling hands I couldn´t help but smile as I walked along the street alone – finally. I had told the maid I still wanted to have a look at the book shop before it closed, hoping she wouldn´t realize that was only half of it. She may have made me feel uncomfortable in a way no one ever had before, but that didn´t mean I wanted to be nasty to her.

It had been worth it though, I thought as I gripped the parcel in my arms closer to my chest. Reading had always been a big part of me, and there was nothing I enjoyed more than a night spent with books, tea and soft candlelight.

Rather selfishly, I realized, part of me didn´t care about Ivy and was more focused on the welcoming prospect of a nice warm bath when I got back to the house and then a big bowl of the stew I had seen Mrs Patmore put on just before we left. "It´ll be perfect after a day out in the cold," she had said and at that moment I didn´t think I would ever be able to put into words how thankful I was to be able to return to such a promise.

But another – smaller – part of me felt guilty; guilty for leaving a girl on her own in such weather, but also guilty for not telling her right at the beginning I wasn´t interested - possibly even getting her hopes up . It wasn´t like I had lead her on or anything, but I also hadn´t put her off.

She would survive, though, I thought; she would find herself a pub somewhere until the wind, that had picked up again now, passed – and she would go right on to the next man once I told her. I wouldn´t tell her the reason of course – or the whole truth. I´d solely tell her I just didn´t think it would work out – which wasn´t a lie, technically.

I made up my mind then and there to do so the minute she got in that evening and trudged on through the snow.

__________

I could barely walk in a straight line as I walked up the drive. The big house looming ahead almost looked like a castle through the swirling snow – the edges blurred from the tears stinging my eyes as I clutched my hands in each other trying to squeeze a tiny bit of warmth into them.

I didn´t recall ever being so cold; I had long ago lost all feeling in my limps, and could barely even feel my torso. It had been a bad idea from the start, going out, when I knew I didn´t have weather-appropriate clothes, but I guessed I hadn´t wanted to say "no", if someone was only trying to be kind – even if the outing hadn´t quite turned out as I had imagined.

I was in an even worse state, when I had reached the back door and could barely even lift my arm to open the door. I leaned on the door frame for a moment as a sudden wave of nausea came over me and I felt like I was about to faint, if I didn´t get inside - soon. With one last small spurt of strength I pushed the door open, stumbling inside, almost dropping my books. I had expected to find everyone bustling about, getting the servant´s dinner ready – maybe already having started without me.

I was instead greeted by the head valet, sitting alone at the long table, newspaper in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He looked at me, opening his mouth as if to speak. But before he had the chance to do so I felt my legs give out and I stumbled forwards a few steps, only to collapse over the back of a chair. I felt the parcel leave my hands and heard it hit the floor, before everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

(THOMAS) He had only been out for a few seconds, luckily, but his legs had still been unstable and weak as I had pulled him to his feet off the cold floor. 

My time in service as an army doctor had had it´s benefits, though, and after hauling wounded soldiers through the trenches for two years, helping a man up the stair had been barely anything. With one of his arms around my shoulders and me steadying his upper body, we had slowly but steadily made our way up the servant´s staircase. 

I had then brought him into his own room and sat him down on his bed, advising him to take his wet clothes off; he´d never warm up otherwise. He had told me he didn´t have anything to change into, so I fetched him a pair of liveries from the cupboard downstairs. 

After he had shaken off his jacket and was starting on the buttons on his shirt, I asked if it might be more appropriate if I left while he got changed, but he merely shook his head, not meeting my eye. 

So I stayed and was now looking at his trembling hands, unable to unhook the buttons. I wondered if I should offer to help him, but decided it may be too forward. 

After a couple more minutes of silence he looked up at me standing beside the door. 'My fingers… they´re shaking too much. Please… can you…' he whispered sounding ashamed. 

I barely heard over his slight panting, but I understood what he meant, and without a word crossed the room, so I was standing right in front of him. He got up, seemingly very interested in the floor. I quickly busied myself with undoing all the buttons and he thanked me quietly when I was finished, ridding himself of the clammy fabric. 

I felt sorry for him, standing there in front of me – a stranger – in nothing but his undershirt. He felt exposed, I could see that in the way he was glancing around nervously, as he unfolded the livery I had brought him. 

When he bent over the bed to pick up the shirt he had just dropped, giving me a clear view of his back, I noticed how hard his vertebra were visible through the thin fabric of his underclothes. 

Then I remembered how I had felt his ribs poke my side, when I was helping him upstairs. It was no surprise really that the cold affected him that much – especially considering how old and battered the clothes looked, that he had now discarded at the foot of the bed. 

'Where is everyone?' he asked suddenly, turning around to face me. 

'They weren´t back yet, when you came in, but they´re probably all busy getting dinner ready as we speak. We can go down and have some – if you´re feeling up to it, of course,' I quickly added as an afterthought. 

'Yes, I think I´d like that. I haven´t eaten in hours,' he answered, face lighting up a bit.

I quickly buttoned up his new shirt, before throwing one last sceptical glance at his shaking hands and pale complexion and turning on my heal, leaving him to follow me downstairs – glad he was at least able to hold up his own weight now. 

\----------

When we reached the servant´s hall, I was surprised to find it empty – as were all the other downstairs rooms. A short glance at the footman standing behind me confirmed, that he was just as confused as I was. 

'Maybe they´re having supper in the village somewhere. We did pass some delicious smelling pubs today,' he suggested, staring down at his hands. 

'They wouldn´t miss the stew. Mrs Patmore´s stew is one of a kind – they wouldn´t pass out on something so tempting.' 

I glanced at my watch; it was already past eight – and we didn´t eat late, when the family were out. What unsettled me most though, wasn´t the absence of a dozen or so maids or the missing hallboys, but the fact, that not even Mr Carson had returned yet. 

He was usually back in plenty of time so he could tell off any latecomers – Mr Hughes usually in his company. But now neither of them were anywhere to be seen. 

'Well, it´s their loss. We´ll have to eat without them for once.' I smiled at the footman still standing behind me, but was surprised to see him look anything but happy. 

'I´ve been so stupid. I shouldn´t have left her on her own. God, and in this weather…' His face grew even graver, while I turned around and started walking towards the kitchen. I heard the footman follow me slowly, still muttering - more to himself than me. 

'So, why don´t you tell me what the rutting hell you´re gong on about while I get us some dinner?' I asked, lifting up the lid of the big pot on the hearth and breathing in the smell of winter and cosy cottages. The stew always reminded me of days spent outside playing in the snow with my sister. 

I sighed happily at the memory before remembering the man standing around awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen and pointed at a chair, indicating him to sit. I heard a scraping sound as he turned the chair around and then started talking. 

He told me all about the whole morning and what a bore Ivy and the others had been – though he hadn´t really had a chance to get to know any of the others; Ivy had made sure of that. 

'It got even worse, when she sent the others off ahead, so we were alone. She kept touching me and holding on to me, and even made me pay for lunch, even though-' He stopped suddenly, making me turn from the counter where I had been filling two bowls with stew. I gave him a questioning glare, which he pointedly ignored, carrying on with his story in his usual nervous stammer. 

'Well, we sat down in the park and she shuffled really close. In the end I just told her I´d look in at the bookshop on the way home. I just hope she doesn´t ever ask me out again.' He huffed dryly and I couldn´t help but let out a small laugh myself. 

'Sounds like fun – and I´m sure she´ll be fine. She´s probably just waiting in a pub for the storm to pass, just like all the others.' 

He smiled as if trying to make himself believe so too, before I handed him one of the two bowls and led him back into the servant´s hall, where we sat down at the long table.

We started eating in silence, me keeping an eye on the man opposite me, making sure he was eating enough. I had only just noticed how light he had been leaning on me earlier and was now determined to get him back to health. 

It wasn´t like he was frightfully skinny or about to collapse, but I still couldn´t help wondering what he had been living off for the past year or so. I made a mental note to ask him later. 

'Do you always stay here during your days off? Doesn´t it get lonely?' I blinked, surprised, when I noticed I had been staring, but quickly composed myself. 

'Usually, yes, but I´m used to being alone.' He gave a single nod, before dropping his head again and focusing on his food. It was quiet for a moment, our quiet slurping the only sounds, before I decided to speak up and break the silence. 

'Mr Carson´ll be gald I´m not in full charge of the house for an entire evening.' 

'He doesn´t like you?'' he asked, apparently surprised. 

For a moment I though about telling him about how apparently “unlikeable” I seemed to be to everyone downstairs, but quickly refrained from the idea; he would find out himself soon enough anyway. 

'Well, he doesn´t trust me, at least – but then again, it´s hard to get in his good books,' He smiled- brighter this time - and I couldn´t help smile back; it was infectious. 

When we had finished eating, having established that the others probably weren´t coming home for the night and after I managed to convince the footman, that Ivy was tucked away in a toasty village pub somewhere, we went upstairs. 

__________

My last thought before I fell asleep that night, was how nice it was, to finally have someone to talk to – someone who hadn´t yet been put off by the other servants, even if it was just for one evening. I smiled into my pillow and closed my eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took ages again I know but school is so hard omg

(JIMMY) I blinked at the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the thin curtains covering the small window. It took me a moment to figure out why I hadn´t been woken at the crack of dawn for work, as I should have, before the entire happenings of the previous day came flooding back.

How I had escaped Ivy in the park; how I had gotten in and then blacked out; how Mr Barrow had supported me up to my room and helped me get changed; how he had then even gotten me something to eat and how in the end we had gone to bed, when the others didn´t seem to be coming home for the night.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall made me jump up and dress as quickly as possible. I had to make as good an impression as possible, and that included not seeming lazy. I wasn´t going to lose my job after barely two days in service; it had been hard enough to get in the first place.

\----------

When I entered the Servant´s Hall ten minutes later, I was yet again surprised to find it empty save for Mr Barrow sitting in an armchair in front of the fire. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I pulled a chair over and sat down opposite him. It was only then that he looked up from the paper he was reading.

'Ah, you´re up. How´d you sleep?'

'Well, I suppose; a bit cold, but well.'

'Stay by the fire. It´s warm here.'

'Thank you, Mr Barrow.' I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

His gaze returned back to the newspaper in his hand, while I noticed a brown paper parcel on the mantle. Realizing it was the books I had bought the previous day, I grabbed it eagerly and opened it up, unable to stop my eyes widening in excitement.

I sensed Mr Barrow´s eyes on my bent head before I heard him chuckle quietly.

'So you like reading, I see. I found them on the floor earlier'. He nodded in the vague direction of the spot I remembered dropping them.

'Thank you, Mr Barrow,' I beamed, realizing too late it was the second time I had uttered the words in the space of a minute.

After a few moments of silence I managed to pluck up enough courage to speak out myself. 'Do you read?'

He lifted his eyes off his paper again, looking surprised by the question for a moment, before answering. 'Not much. We get to borrow books from the upstairs library now and then, but I´m not very interested in history or politics.'

I frowned. 'They don´t have novels here?'

'Well, there are a few romance novels, I think. They´re not really my thing, though.' He smiled weakly, then returned back to his newspaper.

They weren´t for me either, though I didn´t say so. Instead, I found myself asking, on a sudden spur of confidence: 'Would you read, if you had other books – say, about exciting adventures or interesting explorers?'

I instantly scolded myself for acting so abruptly; the words came out all wrong and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment in embarrassment. I sounded like a young schoolgirl getting far too excited about the attention of a boy.

I absolutely hated it. I would get a sudden urge to spark up a conversation with someone, but would almost instantly lose all confidence again, as soon as the words left my mouth. I also had a rather annoying knack of instinctively closing my eyes, whenever something embarrassing happened. I had done so so often during my last few weeks at Bedwell Manor, the butler had started getting extremely irritated by me, and I didn´t blame him. It was utterly foolish, not to mention childish.

Luckily though, Mr Barrow noticed neither the rise in my voice, nor my closed eyes, or else he didn´t show it. Instead, he nodded slowly, as if considering my words, then – 'Possibly.'

I had an idea then, but almost instantly realized he would never agree to anything so stupid. I wanted to offer him a book; and I wanted him to read one of my books; and then I wanted him to discuss it with me afterwards, but I knew I would just appear girly and foolish. So I kept my mouth closed and stared at the heavy snowflakes outside the window opposite me.

I suddenly remembered the other servants and almost felt guilty going so long without questioning their absence.

As if reading my thoughts, Mr Barrow declared: 'They´re not coming home anytime soon. I tried opening the back door – frozen shut. The telephone wire´s dead too. I doubt anyone´ll be out today.'

I nodded slowly, giving his words time to sink in. Then I opened one of my new books, letting a comfortable silence settle between us – the only sound being the fire crackling quietly between us with the occasional turn of a page or the rustle of his paper.

I didn´t know how long we had been sitting there, each lost in our own thoughts, but I was just starting to get invested in the plot of the story, when I heard Mr Barrow say my name. It sounded more like a question than anything, but my head snapped up instantly anyway.

'Have you had anything to eat yet?' I didn´t have to be a genius to know he had in fact noticed by now how sickly thin I was. I instinctively crossed my arms across my stomach in a defensive manner - yet another annoying knack of mine.

'No, but don´t worry, I´m not hungry.' I had caused him enough trouble and unnecessary hassle in the last 24 hours, without him getting me yet another meal.

'Come on, you´re not getting out of this. I´m feeling rather peckish myself. It´ll do you good.' He threw a worried glance in my direction, and I couldn´t help shrink back into the armchair ever so slightly. He could seem so intimidating, yet in the short time I had known him, had simultaneously become one of the most kind and caring men I had ever met – though that wasn´t saying much; I had never much been one for socializing.

I made a mental note to thank him later for everything he had done for me and apologize for any inconvenience I had caused, before jumping to my feet, when I realized he had long gotten up and was watching me amusedly from the door to the kitchen. I couldn´t help a small blush rising to my cheeks.

\----------

I watched Mr Barrow cutting up a loaf of bread on the counter, feeling useless myself – as usual. I had offered to help with getting lunch ready, but he had merely waved my offer off, so I had sat down, and kept quiet, lost in thought.

'What´s wrong?'

I looked up, startled by the question, but found him still with his back towards me. I almost thought I had imagined the words, until he turned around and raised his eyebrows at me. I punched myself inwardly.

'You´re even quieter than usual.'

'Oh, preoccupied – that´s all.' I breathed out heavily, wondering how two days could be "usual", but never the less relieved I had for once managed an even moderately acceptable answer.

'Care to share?'

I paused for a moment, unsure of how to put my thoughts into words. He was still looking at me intently and I got the feeling he wasn´t going to turn away until I gave him a straight answer. 'I guess I just want to apologize, really-'

'Whatever for?' he interrupted me before I could take even another breath. He sounded surprised.

I took a deep breath. 'Well, you´re stuck with me for' – I wrung my hands nervously in my lap – 'who knows how long.'

I was about to go on, when I noticed him staring at me, as if I´d gone mad, before smiling – amused. 'I could think of worse people to be stuck with.' He nodded reassuringly once more, and turned back to where he was now placing the slices of bread on a big plate.

I smiled at his comment and felt like maybe - just maybe - the next few days weren´t going to be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you´re even still reading this after so long like I´m sorry but I feel like my writing is just getting worse and worse every chapter and next chapter will be more thommy I promise I just don´t want it to seem forced


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i managed to write a whole chapter in a few hours kinda proud of myself though I don´t know if it´s any good

(THOMAS) 'You´re not really a talker, are you?' I watched Jimmy´s bent head as he studied the cards in his hand.

I had been struggling to teach him how to play since dinner, and he was finally starting to get the hang of it. I was trying to come up with things to do during the days, and playing cards sounded like a good start. The only problem was you needed someone to play against, which was where Jimmy came in.

After a few seconds he eventually looked up and placed down a card on the table between us, before focusing on his hands again, ignoring my question completely. In the quiet that followed, all I could hear was the fire crackling next to us. It was so quiet, I could even hear his shallow breathing, as the clock on the wall behind his head slowly ticked closer to midnight. I sighed then, deciding it was as good a time a any to finally come out with what had been at the tip of my tongue since the previous evening.

I took a deep breath. 'The other servants have'- I didn´t know how to put my question – 'told you things about me, haven´t they?' It was what I had been suspecting since the first time he averted his gaze from me; since the first time he had started stammering in my company.

The others were always warning new servants to stay clear of me, and they had now done the same with Jimmy. It explained the nervousness practically dripping from his voice and how, since I had helped him with his shirt, he hated me even coming into reaching-space of him.

'They-' He broke off, dropping his gaze again. I was long used to being ignored or avoided, but no one had ever been actually scared of me, and it worried me. It wasn´t like I was going to throw myself at him at any given moment. Did he really believe me to have so little self-control?

'Well, it was only a matter of time really.' I had known it; known this time wasn´t going to be any different than usual, though there had been the tiniest sliver of hope. Now even that was gone. I tried to play it off; pretend I didn´t care, even smiling at him. I failed to keep the disappointment out of my voice, though, and just hoped he didn´t notice.

I wanted to get someone on my side for once, maybe even make a friend, but the others were always quicker. I sighed and put my cards down on the table, ready to go to bed and hope for the snow to stop. It would be best for both of us – not to be caged up together.

I got up, stating I was tired, before turning on my heal and heading for the stairs. I was almost at the door, when I heard the sound of wood scraping stone. I was tempted to tell him to turn off the lights, if he was going to bed too, but decided against it; he wasn´t stupid.

It was then that I heard my name, and I instinctively turned around.. Jimmy was standing now, his hands twisting in front of his stomach – a motion I was used to by now.

'I´m sorry.' I only just caught his words, a mere whisper.

'It´s all right, James.' In the admittedly short time I had known him, I had never once used his name to his face. It sounded odd coming from my lips. 'It´s not your fault. I understand.' And with that I turned around again and started walking.

I didn´t understand. I was probably as far from understanding as was possible, but I didn´t say so; I didn´t want to make the next few days even more uncomfortable as they were already destined to be.

I had barely taken two steps, though, before I felt his hand on my shoulder. I spun around instinctively, surprise probably written all over my face. I hadn´t even heard him catch up with me, but now he was standing mere inches from me, his hand still resting on my shoulder.

He seemed to realize so too, and immediately retreated it, taking a step back, cheeks burning redder than ever. I watched him close his eyes for a moment, as if trying to refocus, before taking a deep breath. I waited, more out of curiosity than patience.

'I only meant-' His confidence apparently failed him again, as it so often did. He carried on in a much more uncertain tone: 'no, they didn´t tell me anything. I´m sorry if they were supposed to. You can tell me now, if it´s that important.'

I tried and desperately failed to hide my surprise, a frown appearing on my forehead. He seemed to somehow shrink into himself even more.

'It´s not important, no.' I smiled – genuine this time – and gave him a reassuring nod, before heading up to my room anyway.

\----------

The next morning I woke early, used to the tight schedule the servants at Downton Abbey usually followed. I dressed and entered the servant´s hall, only to find it not as empty as I had expected it to be; Jimmy was sitting reading at the long table. He obviously didn´t hear me approach, as his head suddenly snapped up, when I greeted him and sat down on the chair opposite him.

'You´re up early. You didn´t appear until it was as good as lunch-time yesterday.' I chuckled.

'You almost gave me a heart-attack.' He laughed quietly, more to himself than anyone, and I couldn´t help wondering if I had ever even heard him laugh once during the past three days. He seemed to have forgotten about the previous evening – or was pretending to have, at least, which I was genuinely thankful for.

I found an old newspaper – there hadn´t been any new deliveries during the snow storm – and started flicking through the pages, not really taking anything in. It was all old news anyway. After a few minutes I put it down again, feeling oddly disenchanted and, for the first time since we had become snowed-in, bored – it didn´t help that the only other person around was too embarrassed to talk to me.

'What´re you reading?' I asked Jimmy, nodding at the book laying open on the table in front of him.

His eyes visibly lit up at my question, and I began to wonder, if he usually went unnoticed by people. It would not only explain why he was always so quiet, but also the way he always seemed to visibly brighten, as soon as I gave him even an ounce of attention.

Another thing I had noticed about the footman, was how much he obviously relaxed, whenever he was talking about something he loved – especially books. He would suddenly stop fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and would occasionally even look me in the eye for longer than a few seconds.

'Well, it´s hard to explain, really. It´s exciting, anyway, just hard to explain.' As expected, his voice sounded a lot firmer than usual.

I suddenly had an idea then. 'Do you think I might be able to borrow one of your books for a day or two? It´s just, the house is rather boring, without any work to do.'

His eyes widened at my proposition, as if it were so hard to believe I would actually be interested in one of his books.

'Yes, yes, of course.' He nodded vigorously, before smiling brighter than usual, and I couldn´t help return it. It was good to see him enjoying himself for once, and I made up my mind then and there to try and make him feel as comfortable as possible over the next few days.

He was the only company I had for now and I was going to make the best of it – not only for my sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for still reading this


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i´m so bad at updating wth

(JIMMY) When I found Mr Barrow in the kitchen the next morning, I was surprised to find that there had been a noticeable change in his appearance. He was now not only wearing wearing a plain white shirt and brown tweed trousers, but when he turned around at the sound of my footsteps, his hair was hanging floppily down over one side of his forehead. He looked kinder and more approachable than usual. In fact, he looked so unlike his usual immaculate self, I couldn´t help smiling. 

'Well, may as well make use of the cat´s absence,' he explained, as if sensing my surprise. 

'If you say so.' I made my way over to my usual chair to uselessly watch him prepare our meal. 

'Do you want to help get breakfast ready?' I spun around at his question. 

'Oh, so I´m allowed to today, am I?' 

He sighed dramatically, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. 'Come over here. You can toast the bread.' 

'I feel honoured.' 

I marvelled at how I had managed to contribute two full-length sentences to a conversation without instantly regretting speaking up. My second comment had even made Mr Barrow smirk, which I couldn´t help feel a tinge of pride at. The day had gone off to a good start. 

\----------

'What about your family? Where are you from?' 

I almost choked on a mouthful of bread. 'What?' Why would anyone want to know personal details about me? 

Mr Barrow sighed, amused. 'Your parents? Siblings?' 

'Oh.' I swallowed. 'Well, my parents are both dead. My father died in the war. I don´t have any siblings.' 

I was determined not to share more than was absolutely necessary and was relieved when he didn´t press any further about my mother. The nightmares hadn´t stopped yet, and talking would only rile up memories. 

'What about you?' He looked taken aback by my question for a moment, but quickly regained himself. 

'You know, a few cousins here and there; not much.' 

'What about your parents?' The words came out, before I had time to think. I couldn´t stop myself, and I instantly regretted asking, as soon as the they left my mouth.

His gaze immediately dropped to his half-eaten meal, and he started shifting uncomfortably on his chair. I could have punched myself. Why did I ask? Why did everything always come out all wrong? 

By the following quiet it was apparent that he, too, didn´t want to talk about his family, though it did surprise me. What could ever make perfectly collected, always confident Mr Barrow feel uneasy? What could make his constant on-top-of-the-world manner crumble into mere splinters? I refrained from asking further questions, though, despite my now peaked curiosity. 

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being our quiet chewing, before he wordlessly got up and left the room, leaving me staring after him, wide-eyed. When I had finished my own meal, I decided to do him a favour and clear the table alone. I oddly found myself looking forward to his positively surprised face when he came back downstairs again, whenever that may be. 

\----------

The rest of the morning was dull and lifeless. Nothing seemed to fill the quiet and the clock above my bed almost seemed to be mocking me – rubbing in how bored I was by moving lazily slow. It was only after several tedious hours of lying on my bed, book sitting untouched on my bedside-table, that I realized how much I had gotten used to Mr Barrow´s constant company over the past couple of days, and I wanted to hit myself for upsetting him. 

The room felt empty without his broad frame resting comfortably just opposite me. The heavy silence pressed down on my ears, forcefully reminding me of how calming his even breathing had been. 

The absence of a crackling fire in my room unsettled me, and, God, I even found myself counting down the seconds until I would hear the familiar turn of a page. Except it never came, replaced now by the occasional rumble of my stomach. I guessed I should have taken it as a good sign, I was finally getting my appetite back, but it only reminded even more, of what a big part Mr Barrow had played in my recovery. I scolded myself inwardly for not realizing so earlier; for taking his presence for granted, without cherishing it rightfully. 

If I closed my eyes I could just about imagine a world, where anxious, shy Jimmy was gone, buried far down beneath a new Jimmy, a healthy Jimmy, a Jimmy, who could hold a conversation with another human being for longer than a few seconds – and for some absurd reason, I found myself wishing for a Jimmy who could make Mr Barrow smile, maybe even laugh, whenever, and wherever he wanted to. I was trying, I really was, to be that Jimmy, and Mr Barrow was, unknowingly, making it a hell of a lot easier for me, though I still had a long way to go. 

It was odd really: spending the majority of the past year alone, and then feeling abandoned when left to myself for a mere morning. It wasn´t like Mr Barrow had any obligation to have to spend any time at all with me, but I had somehow, over the space of a few days, gotten so accustomed to him just being there, that I now felt like he shouldn´t just be sitting in his room alone, leaving me to do the same. That just wasn´t the way it was supposed to be. 

I sighed, as my stomach made itself audible yet again. A quick glance at the clock confirmed, that it was, in fact, almost time for lunch. I wondered if Mr Barrow would come downstairs with me, if I asked him to, or if he was still angry at me. I still didn´t know what I had said to upset him, but I did know I was more than ready to apologize to him for whatever I had done.

I got up, and after quickly checking my hair in the mirror, made my way out on to the corridor. When I reached Mr Barrow´s door I knocked twice, and a third time just for good measure, yet didn´t receive an answer. He probably didn´t want to see me anyway. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a quiet cough behind me. I spun around, unable to hide the surprise so clearly written all over my face. Mr Barrow was leaning in the doorway to the men´s rooms, arms crossed in front of his chest, a wry smile dancing on his lips. 

'Hungry?' 

I nodded eagerly, not caring, for the first time in ages if I looked stupid. It felt good; to just smile and not really mind, and I wondered if my light-headedness had anything to do with Mr Barrow. 

\----------

I followed him downstairs again and into the Servant´s Hall. To my surprise the were two sets of cutlery layed out on the table, ready with glasses of water and all. He indicated towards one of the chairs, before leaving the room again towards the kitchen. 

As I waited, silently tapping my fingers on the worn wood, I gazed out of the window. The snow had stopped falling quite as heavily now, and I started wondering how long it would still just be us two. After spending almost an entire week alone with Mr Barrow, the house didn´t feel empty any more, and I already found it hard to imagine all the other servant´s sitting around the long table with us. 

Just then Mr Barrow returned with two steaming bowls of soup in his hands. As he set down one of them in font of me, a delicious smell wafted up, and I found myself smiling like a fool, yet again not caring. I had been “finding” myself doing rather a lot of unusual things lately – well, unusual for me, at least. 

'Thank you.' For a moment I wondered, what had spurred this sudden act of kindness, but I quickly pushed that thought to the back of my head and decided to just enjoy his unshared attention while it lasted. 

He sat down opposite me and I took it as a cue to tuck in. The soup wasn´t anywhere near as good as Mrs Pat more´s cooking, but it was still rather impressive for a valet. 

'How did you learn to cook?' 

'My sister taught me.' He had a smug look on his face, that reminded me of a child proudly showing off a sandcastle to a parent, and I got the distinct feeling he had only been too eager for me to ask. 

'It´s good; it really is.' He thanked me. 

For some reason the events of the morning had made a positive impact on me, as conversation seemed to be flowing much easier than before and I found myself actually, truly enjoying myself for once.


End file.
